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Wednesday, April 01, 2015

Never want for wonder

A crab is stalking around the tank, pincers raised, ready for action. He sees me nearby and threatens me, but when I touch the glass at his face, he looks at my fingertip for a moment, then realizes it's bigger than his pincers. And off he scuttles, to hide under a clamshell.

Laurie would have laughed.

But he's gone. He died Saturday night. He won't laugh at my critters, nor watch his garden bloom. He won't be bringing me spiders in pill bottles. He won't be taking more photos of Mount Baker across the water, or peering into tidepools, or leading parades of hungry mallards at Reifel Island. Or rousting me out of my morning doldrums to "go a-jaunting."

Hey luv let us go a-jaunting o
when the red-cheeked sun
in her walking-out attire
rises laughing over the horizon
scooting by watchful hawk and eagle
down to the jaunty seagull's hangout
rocky shore sandy beach weedy marge
where tireless tide's urge to push and pull
from bygone sagacity rules
poseidon's fishy realm and aphrodite's foamy origin
where awareness begat sentiency
yes our home too: briny and ozone
whose thriving presence invigorates
while we alert and observant poke and peer
thrilled and often chilled never want for wonder
for this is a force beholden to no-one
and like love provides and demands
generous and severe

Thank you for sharing this poem that gives us yet another glimpse of Laurie. There really are no words at such a time, other than to say how well I understand how much has changed - the big and the little things in your life. But we are left with the gift of seeing the world through our own eyes as well as those of our partner. While we may have lost that person, we have gained as well and are almost like two. At least, that is how it has been for me. I wish you peace and strength to carry you forward, Susannah.